Nothings Changed
by Zephyr5
Summary: Seifer wants to come home, but nothing's changed. Second of my 'album' rated for language COMPLETE


AN: Thankie to Redrum – glad you liked the 'single' *grins*  I was tempted to write more, but that's how most of my fics start, and then I have to think of an ending *sighs*  so these are staying as one-shots :)  Anyway, here's the second 'single' of the 'album' *giggles* Seifer's chance to have a little angsty rage at Garden

Disclaimers: Lyrics 'Nothing's Changed' © The Calling, and FF8 stuff © Squaresoft

Warnings: Angst again – there should be some without angst, but I'm in an angsty mood at the mo :(

**Nothing's Changed**

_It was a day just like this_

_In a life of our times_

_Shrugging signs there's no chance for us_

_It's not mine to decide_

'No'.  That was the answer I got from Trabia and Galbadia Gardens.  Not that I really wanted to go back anyway, but still, after Squall's official announcement that cleared me of any liability...  It wouldn't have hurt them to say, 'sorry, we're full'.  OK, crap excuse, but it's the difference between being politely turned away, and having the door slammed in your face.

The rain is pouring down.  Hard enough to bounce when it hits the ground, or flesh.  I watch it from where I lean, just inside a doorway.  Amazingly the cigarette in my mouth is still dry, and I smirk to think that perhaps someone up there has a little remorse for the crappy way life's treated me.  Either that, I recall the vehicle that drove through a large puddle and soaked me earlier, or the joke on me is so fucking big that one small cigarette doesn't matter.  As the angle of the rain slowly starts to change, driving into the doorway, I decide it's the latter.

Lightning flashes across the clouded skies, a loud crash of thunder following close after.  Shit, reminds me of the morning it all started.  I frown, shaking my head to dispel unhappy memories.  Not that I can remember a hell of a lot.  Once Ultemecia really got control I was completely out of it.  The last real memory I have is of the TV station in Timber.  Bursting in and discovering Deling has a whole bunch of bodyguards that specialise in not being seen until it's too late.  I'd have been dead if Ultemecia hadn't wanted me.  Maybe it would've been better that way.

Still, I never had a chance, either way.  Not that the rest of the world believes my version of the story.  Except Squall.  But then, Squall knew, knows, me better than anyone else.  Even Fujin and Raijin.  My 'faithful' posse.  How the fuck was I supposed to know that Ultemecia would kill them when they tried to get me to come to my senses by leaving?  And then to use my grief to make me threaten Sis.  I hope Squall told her I was sorry.  Maybe she knows.

I slouch moodily out of the doorway that now offers no protection from the rain.  Everywhere is wet.  Nowhere will let me in, even for a few moments, never mind for long enough to get dry or to sleep.  I turn sadly in the direction of the only place that will let me in.  The only place I dare enter.  I don't have a choice.  Once more, I am left with only one possible course of action.

_You never listened to what I said_

_You never thought I'd succeed_

_And though I've given you all I can_

_You show no faith in me_

I've wondered a lot why Squall believed me when no one else did.  Is it really just because he knows me so well?  Every instructor at Garden knows me.  They've seen me grow up.  They remember me growing up.  Squall doesn't.  Hell, even I don't.  But then, I've always had a wild and rebellious streak a mile wide.

Add jealousy to the list.  Maybe Squall had the right idea by not speaking.  They treated every word of his as a precious jewel, whilst my ideas were thrown on the refuse heap before they were even born.  The brunette claims he was always trying to equal me.  Doesn't he see that I was always trying to equal him?  I was considered too unpredictable for SeeD.  Why do you think they were never surprised when I failed the exams?  I was never expected to succeed, to pass.  Seifer Almasy, a SeeD?  It was the Instructor's little 'in joke', and I knew it.

I tried the hardest possible.  Hyne knows I did.  The Instructors all know I did, except they won't admit it.  There's not one of them there that would walk with me as their only backup into any situation.  Not one that trusts me to watch their back.  Of course, there's not one whose back I consider worth watching.

_And I remember, and I recall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

_And though we falter, we don't have to fall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

Was it always like that?  I remember vague snatches of a young Seifer raising hell around Balamb and the Garden.  He seems foreign to me, not me at all.  Even then I was viewed with resigned resignation.  That is my clearest memory.  An overheard conversation between two Instructors.  They placed a bet on how old I would be before Cid was forced to exclude me permanently from Balamb Garden.

I can't help wondering, bitterly, if their attitudes were what led to my downfall.  How was I supposed to react to their criticism?  I was still a child, I didn't understand their words, but I understood their meaning.  They considered me a failure.  A write-off.  A hopeless case.  Did it have to be this way?  I guess we'll never know, but the anger boils inside me to think that those who spurn me made my downfall possible.

No, I guess nothing has changed.  Except one of those two Instructors is now owed some gil.  Not that I care any more.  If I can't remember the horrors of my childhood, I can remember all too clearly the horrors of my possession.  I only have to close my eyes for a second to see the bodies of all those who died by my command.  To see the wreck of Trabia, bloodstained, bodies strewn hither and yon.  And worst of all, to see all those that once I considered friends in pain.

_Even when I was young, ooh_

_And the pressure was on_

_You always told me to do my thing_

_So what the hell went wrong_

My thoughts drift back once more to my childhood, what little I remember, as I make my slow way along the winding tarmac road that leads from Balamb town to Balamb Garden.  The rain is almost vertical, almost hail, lashing at me as I walk.  The wetness from above hides the tears that roll slowly from my eyes.

I remember more from my childhood than any of the others, even Irvine.  I guess I have, reluctantly, to thank Ultemecia for that.  Somehow she booted my consciousness into the place where junctioned GFs reside.  That's why I was never junctioned during the war, there was no room.  But what I found there were the fragments of my memories.  The ones the GFs hadn't completely destroyed that is.  

Teasing fragments of memory.  A voice, undoubtedly Quisty's, urging me to hurry up and climb 'the damn tree' before matron comes to see what we're doing.  Why I'm supposed to climb the tree I don't know.  Nor do I know why Quistis is urging me to.  Other voices, other fragments.  Overhearing meaningless conversation between Irvine and Selphie.  Overhearing Ellone and Edea talking in urgent tones.  I guess that was just before Ellone left.

I remember Edea talking quietly to me.  She could always calm me down, whilst at the same time easing my unspoken fears, and giving me the confidence to do whatever I wanted.  Maybe that was why Ultemecia found it so easy to sway me to her side.  I could hear Edea's voice, and some part of me instinctively recognised Edea's voice.  She'd always told me to be myself, but I guess she also indirectly suggested some of my more minor pranks too.  I guess if she set me up to pull a crazy stunt, she at least knew how to be prepared for the consequences.

I don't think anyone was prepared for the consequences of my last stunt.  Not even me.

_And I remember, and I recall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

_And though we falter, we don't have to fall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

But of course, thoughts of my childhood just lead me full circle.  Back to Squall.  I remember the brunette as a child.  He was my partner in crime.  At least until Ellone left.  He convinced himself that it was some sort of punishment for whatever our last prank had been.  I remember lying in bed at night, hearing him creep past to slip outside.  Once I followed him, only once.  That memory still haunts me.

I listened to him pouring his heart out to the pouring rain.  Listened and realised that he blamed himself for Ellone leaving.  How the hell could I tell him that I felt it was my fault too?  Far easier at that age to go with the flow and also blame him for Sis's disappearance.

I sometimes wonder if that gave him the guilt complex he carries around with him today.  For every life lost in the Ultemecia conflict, he blames himself.  Blames himself for deaths that nothing could have prevented.  Hell, he even blames himself for me joining Ultemecia.  He'll drive himself mad with guilt some day.  Or the tension in his thin frame will grow so much that he snaps in two.

_An outcast coming home, opinions stay the same_

_They'll spit them out and spin me right back through the door_

_The louder that we scream, the more invisible we seem_

_Is it gonna last forever, yeah_

The lights of Balamb Garden blaze through the darkness.  I halt, staring in wonder.  Never has it seemed so beautiful.  I guess you really don't know what you have until you lose it.  Just like a dying man given a reprieve, every aspect of every day seems beautiful beyond belief to me now.  But I guess no one will believe that sort of sentimental bullshit coming from my mouth.  I'm Seifer Almasy, Fallen Sorceress Knight, Arrogant Bastard and general Twat.  The capital letters of the sarcastic titles fall easily into place in my mind.

I'm the prodigal son, except I'm not going to be welcomed back with open arms.  I won't be welcomed back at all.  All they'll see is the man who tried his damnedest to destroy them.  To destroy the world.  Existence.  They can't see beyond the old opinions of me, reinforced by the misconceptions of mind control.  Why does everyone believe that you have to accept mind control?  Why the fuck is it called 'control' if you accept it willingly?  Only if it's a weak sorceress, or if you're a sorceress yourself, do you get a choice.  I just happen to be male, and Ultemecia certainly wasn't weak.  Not in any way you care to define it.

But they won't see that.  They won't let themselves see that, because once they admit that they have to admit two things.  One, I really wasn't in control and they can't blame me.  And two, it could just as easily have been them.  So they'll spout all the rubbish that was spouted at my trial, and then do their damnedest to kick me out of Balamb Garden too.  I don't know if Squall can do anything to stop them.  Not if everyone wants me gone.  And I don't know what I'll do if it does happen.

I want to rage and rant at the world.  I have.  Out in the plains of Galbadia, on the cliffs of Timber, in the forests of Esthar and the mountains of Trabia.  I've wandered the world and screamed at it.  And with each scream the world has more determinedly turned its back and stuck its fingers in its ears.  They don't want to know the truth.  They don't want to admit it.  They'd sooner have me as a scapegoat.  Someone they can lay all their petty guilt and insecurity at the doorstep of.  Not that I have a doorstep.  I doubt I ever will.

The darkness of the night grows more intense as I wonder just how long I'm doomed to remain an outcast.  A month?  A year?  A decade?  Forever?  Will I be written into the history books as the evil sorceress knight?  I don't want to be remembered like that, but I guess I don't have a choice.  'To the victor go the spoils'.  And the pen and paper of history.

_We don't have to fall_

_And nothing's changed at all_

_Is it gonna last forever_

_Forever..._

During my musings my feet have slowly inched their way closer to the Garden.  At this distance I can see the lights blazing in the great ballroom.  Memory drags me back under, and I'm forced to grin as I recall Squall's expression at the SeeD ball.

I shouldn't have been there, although, admittedly, neither should Rinoa.  Silly bitch.  It was her bloody mission to free Timber that dragged me from Balamb to Timber, and that was the start of my plunge to inglorious defeat.  Still, I'd crept in, wanting to be a part of the laughter and music.  I'd been on the edge again.  I'm sure all Squall wanted was to be where I was, alone, on the outside.  All I wanted to be was where he was.

It was always that way.  Whatever I wanted he got.  And I always seemed to accidentally end up where he wanted to be.  No matter how much we tried to change our situations, we were unable to.

I don't know if Squall would want to be in this exact position, with the amount of blood on his hands that there is on mine.  But I guess he probably wouldn't mind the isolation.  He has to fight crowds of adoring townspeople off.  I have to exert the same amount of effort to get someone to acknowledge I exist.  Fortunately time compression, in the brief moments it existed, seems to have done a passable job at erasing most memories.  Only when I linger do they start to come flooding back into people's minds.  And I've made it a habit not to linger.

Still, I'm lingering here.  Torn between entering to find the rejection in the faces of those who once simply hated and disliked me.  Torn between turning away, back into the world that has made it quite clear that it wants nothing to do with me.  Torn between a longing to stay in one place for more than a few hours.  Torn between all that and the fierce burning to go home.  Will I ever come back home?

_Now I'm learning the lies_

_From the skies where they reign_

_Can't find shelter for myself_

_And you're all to blame_

If I learnt the truth, the hard way, I still confirmed it through intensive research.  Through books, another sorceress and, remarkably, several GFs, I found confirmation of what I knew.  Confirmation that everyone should believe.  Except they refuse to even admit that I could be right.

Absently I notice the rain has stopped.  Although I am wet enough to still drip gently onto the tarmac beneath my feet.

Not even Garden will support me.  Although I guess Squall's power is limited.  A Commander only has control in times of open war.  We're not at war any more.  I guess he's grateful for the lessening of his responsibility, although something at the back of my mind reminds me that this is Squall.  If you took every single bit of responsibility away from him, he'd still find something to worry about.  I swear the man could hold an internal monologue on the subject of a blank, white wall.

_And I remember, and I recall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

_And though we falter, we don't have to fall_

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

I don't feel like trying to get in through the main gates.  It's well past curfew, and I don't feel like creating a scene.  I'm tired, and I must look like I've swum from Dollet fully clothed.  Still, there's more than one entrance.  I trudge quietly around the Garden's outer grounds, just another shadow in the night.

I remember doing this in happier times.  More innocent times.  Times when the climb up to the second floor was made with a wide grin of remembered happiness.  And often more than a slight hint of alcoholic euphoria.  How I never managed to fall and break open this fool skull of mine, I don't know.

Half way up my foot slips.  Just a minor thing, but it makes me break out in a sweat.  I realise that no matter how hated and despised I am or become, I still love life, and I don't want to give it up.

_And I remember, and I recall, yeah_

_I can see that nothing's changed at all_

_Although we falter, we don't have to fall_

My foot slips again near the top, and I cling to the railing as though it were strong enough to take my weight.  That's something else I remember, although I could do without the memory just now.  A SeeD fell to their death over this railing, it broke when they leaned on it.  Of course, the Garden staff said it was suicide, that the railing had been intact…  And that leaves what?  A haunted railing.  I remember that had me laughing for a week when I thought of it.  I never let on with the joke though.  I wasn't stupid.  SeeDs may have a strange sense of humour, but the morbid thought behind my giggles was too much.  I wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week.

I swallow as I feel the railing begin to bend.  Maybe I should try and put some more weight on my feet.  But I know I'm precariously balanced as it is.  The rail bends further.  Is it me, or is the metal bar deforming?  Seconds later I have the answer as I feel my fingers begin to press into the softening metal.

There's a sudden noise.  Someone clearing their throat.  I'd call for help, except for two things.  One, I don't know who it is, and for all I know they might help me to fall.  And two, I still have more damn pride than that.  But the cleared throat has an electrifying effect on the railing.  It springs back into place fast enough to almost jerk loose my grip.  Shit!  The damn railing really is haunted!

There's a hand on my arm, helping to pull me up.  I don't look at my 'rescuer', concentrating instead on getting a better grip with my other hand and feet.  Hopefully, by the time they realise who I am, I'll be able to get out of this mess myself.  But nothing happens, and, once safely on the other side of the rail, I look up.

The nervous breath I had been holding expels itself with a relieved sigh.  It's Squall.  He stares at me, his face expressionless, but his eyes…  His eyes are dancing.  Mischief, and relief, and maybe even a little joy.  He seems to be unaware of the gesture when he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face.

_And I can see that nothing's changed at all_

_And I remember, and I recall_

_I can see that nothing's changed at all_

His hand lingers for a moment on my brow, then runs lightly down the side of my face and across my jaw to my chin.  I grin.  "It's me."  Startled eyes meet mine and he frowns.  Who did I think he expected it to be?  My grin widens.  I still haven't lost the ability to read him.

"Welcome home."  Two simple words.  How could they be so powerful?  I can feel fresh tears pricking at my eyes and rolling down my face.  The brunette, never one for spontaneous displays of anything other than disappearing, is suddenly there in my arms.  I don't know who moved, or even if we both moved.

I hold him tightly to my sodden form.  I'm home.  Home.

AN: Aw, happy ending :)  Kinda changed as I wrote it.  Hopefully this signals the end of the angst (yeah, right, whatever!) and I can write some nice songfics :)  


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